


Favor Repaid

by nekokoban



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Sexual Content, help what am I doing, now with more porn!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-25 16:37:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/640934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekokoban/pseuds/nekokoban
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has never been very good at not listening to his impulses, even when they get him into trouble.  But as long as Bunny's asleep, who's to know?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt [here](http://rotg-kink.dreamwidth.org/2200.html?thread=2082968#cmt2082968). Seriously, what if filling for the meme was the only thing I ever did in this fandom. 

It was never meant to go quite this far.

It had started innocently enough -- most of his grand plans usually did -- and from there, things had just ... escalated.

_I don't need any fancy service or anything,_ Bunny had said.

_I just need you to check on things, make sure nothing's gotten in to mess things up,_ he'd said.

_I'm counting on you,_ he'd said.

_I'll owe you one,_ he'd said.

Jack was pretty sure that _this_ wasn't the sort of repayment Bunny had meant -- in fact, he'd outright wager everything he had on it. But he'd gotten started, now, and even with every instinct he had shrieking indignantly at him, he couldn't make himself stop.

("Are you saying you actually hibernate?" Jack leaned forward, still balancing on his staff, and raised an eyebrow. "What, you're the Easter Bear now, instead of a Kangaroo?"

"Very funny." Bunny's voice was dry enough to cut. "It's an energy conservation thing. Maybe I don't need it, but I get my best ideas during that nap. Are you gonna help, or am I gonna have to put you back on the 'Evict on Sight' list?"

"I'll help, I'll help!")

"I'll help, you said," Jack muttered to himself. "Just leave it to me, you said. Maybe the cold's gotten to your brain, Jack."

He paused at that, but when there was no response, he let out a deep sigh. "And then you had to keep saying yes, didn't you, good old Jack Frost, now he's got _responsibilities_ , he's a _Guardian_ , trust him with your sleeping body--!"

He bit his lip to cut himself off and rose to his knees, walking forward on them until he was in place. Practice made perfect, and he'd done this enough times to have a decent idea of how to situate himself.

The first year he'd been on his best behavior. As much as he liked to bait Bunny and get him riled up, it was different when it came to pulling pranks that wouldn't be noticed for months. Frosting the sentinels was no fun when there was no Bunny to discover them within an hour and throw a fit about it, and destroying more delicate plantlife never had any appeal. Frosting funny patterns into Bunny's fur didn't really have lasting effect, either; even the permanent markers he'd borrowed from Jamie wore off by the time Bunny's annual three-month nap ended.

Besides, as much as he hated to admit it, part of him had been quietly thrilled to be given that responsibility. As much as he disparaged the very idea of it, something like this implied trust -- trust in him, Jack Frost! -- and the last thing he wanted to do was botch that chance. It hadn't been North, or Tooth, or Sandy that Bunny had asked, but _him_ , and a not-so-small part of his heart still leapt at being seen and acknowledged.

So the first year had been easy, if boring. He breezed in about twice a month to see how the Warren was fairing, and as Bunny had said

(Bunny had said a lot of things)

it mostly ran itself with smooth efficiency. The bushes that would eventually bloom into the coloring flowers were growing tall and strong, and the egg sentinels brought water and fertilizer when necessary. The first year passed without any incident, and when he arrived at the tail end of summer (winter in Australia, and he still marveled at how different it felt from his memories and instincts), Bunny was awake and pleased in his own unique Bunny way -- which amounted to a gruff _thank you_ and the roughly affectionate swipe of a paw through his hair when he joked about taking over the place for himself next time.

And then the next year, Bunny asked him to keep an eye on things again. Jack spent most of that summer-winter exploring the various tunnels and passages of the Warren, making it a game to try and remember correctly which ones led where.

(The last one he found was the one that took him straight back to Burgess, within sight of his pond, and even if it was just a stupid coincidental thing, he couldn't help but feel a little touched.)

The third year, though ... that was when things started going downhill.

His first thought had been to start exploring the tunnels again; there were enough that he hadn't gotten through even half of them, the year before. He'd only meant to wander around a bit first, then get started on proper exploring, when he stumbled across Bunny's nest. It was cleverly hidden behind two angled boulders, so that anyone not deliberately looking for places to poke through would miss it, and inside it was dry and warm and smelled strongly of warm breathing animal. Jack settled both feet on the ground and walked as quietly as he could, very nearly tiptoeing to the nest against the far wall.

For all that his bed was a mess of clean straw and dried grasses, Bunny slept like a human man might, his body twisted so that he was half on his back and half curled on his side, breathing deep and slow. Occasionally his nose would twitch or an ear would shiver in vague gestures, but no golden figures appeared over his head -- whatever dreams he had, they were spun from his own hand, with no help from Sandy. He remained still even as Jack crouched down beside him, not even twitched when Jack reached out to rest light fingers on his arm.

Later, Jack refused to think of how long he just stayed there on the first day, watching nervously for any signs of consciousness as he gently ran his fingers through the short, fine fur of Bunny's arms. It was softer than he imagined, even knowing what rabbit fur could be like, and just that had been enough to nearly lull him into a trance, digging his fingers deeper until he could feel the corded muscles underneath, and that was its own particular little thrill, curling in his belly until he had to pull back and flee, taking the tunnel that took him to Santoff Claussen. He spent the rest of that month being a diligent helper for North, and tried his hardest not to think about Bunny's sleeping face.

But the problem with Jack was that once he had an idea in his head, it was impossible to get rid of. Call it instinct related to his center, call it a talent for mayhem, whatever it was, sometimes he would be seized with an impulse that wouldn't let him go until he'd seen it through to its most glorious conclusion.

The blizzard of '68 had been one of them. So had been the snowball war of the previous year, and he was probably lucky that Jamie was a lot more tolerant than Bunny.

So there it was. It started small -- he'd catch himself rubbing his own arms and being disappointed at their texture until he realized what he was missing, then he would jerk his fingers as if burned. Then he spent time hanging out at the Bennett's while Jamie and Sophie were at school, watching Sophie's pet rabbits moving around in their hutch, or as they slept curled in tiny bundles of gray fur, and okay, _maybe_ he was getting a little pathetic, but it was fine. It was cool. He had everything under control.

Or at least, he did until he didn't.

The next time he visited the Warren, he told himself sternly that he wasn't going to go to Bunny's room -- he'd do what he was asked to do and he would leave, and he'd leave Bunny to his creative dreams, and everything would be fine.

Except as soon as he touched down on the warm stone, his feet were moving before he could stop himself, carrying him back to that cleverly-hidden chamber and the sleeper within. This time, Bunny slept entirely on his back, one arm over his eyes, stretched out to his full height, and the thick tousled fur of his chest ruff looked so soft that he wanted to just sink his fingers into it. Which was stupid and dangerous (he didn't think Bunny would much appreciate being essentially groped in his sleep), but again, he was moving before he really thought about it, leaning one knee against the side of Bunny's nest and reaching out.

It was softer than the first gentle snowbanks of winter, and smelled so ridiculously green that it made his nose tickle. He just barely refrained from sneezing, and when that was successful, well. After that it was only a small step to climb all the way onto Bunny's nest, and then onto Bunny himself, keeping his fingers deep in that soft fur and settling to rest his cheek against the slow steady drumbeat of Bunny's heart.

Nothing happened that second day; of that, Jack was completely sure. He just stayed until he'd fallen asleep, only to snap awake some time later when Bunny shifted under him, grumbling something subvocal that soon faded away. Again Jack fled for Santoff Claussen, which was really about as far away as one could get from Australia, though this time he couldn't make himself stay the whole month, skulking among the elves and yeti and causing enough minor damage stacked that Phil eventually "suggested" that he leave for a while.

But by then, it was already too late. The next time he returned to the Warren, nervous and almost sick to his stomach, it was too late.

He didn't do too much at first -- just touching, really, just running his hands first over the places he could reach just kneeling by Bunny's nest, and then the places he could reach by crawling onto it, perched on the side of it with his knees. He always held his breath as he did, half afraid that the sound of something else living in Bunny's space would wake him, and then it would definitely all be over.

In the meantime, though, Jack was determined to learn what he could.

He learned that there were scars under Bunny's fur, knotted and puckered and hidden from sight; he learned that the markings on his fur went all the way down, darker patches on the skin itself. He learned that if you scratched under Bunny's chin, even with cold fingers, one of those great ridiculous feet would twitch weakly in the phantom gestures of thumping; he learned that the ears were off limits, because any time he got close to them, Bunny would begin to stir, his muttering growing louder, and it would take long, long minutes for him to subside after Jack backed off.

He learned all of these things and then tucked them somewhere away in the back of his mind as precious little nuggets of information -- things that were so deep that, he hoped, even if his teeth were to suddenly start falling out, Tooth would never see them.

It was almost a disappointment when he arrived at the Warren the next time and found Bunny awake.

The fourth year was the one that, in his mind, Jack called The Line.

For the first time, he couldn't actually fool himself that he wouldn't head straight to Bunny's room, and that there was still something left -- something very specific -- that he was looking for.

There was a line, and he crossed it.

He learned that applying gentle pressure low on Bunny's belly, at the groin, yielded a cock that was long even when flaccid and more human in appearence than expected, which sent a visible shiver through Bunny's body when he touched it, and then he was completely doomed. Part of him had hoped, however dimly, that this would be the end of it -- he'd satisfied his weird curiosity and that would be it. That would be the end.

Except Bunny did shiver when Jack touched his cock, his hips lifting subtly, and he moaned when Jack did it again, lightly skimming his fingers along its length, and it didn't take much at all to coax it to full hardness, jutting up in a gentle curve between his hips. The smell was stronger like this, so that the little chamber was practically saturated with the scent of green growing things, and at heart, Jack was only human, and an impulsive one at that.

After three hundred years, he'd learned a few things -- and this modern day and age wasn't very shy about what it had on display. For someone who was curious and invisible, there was no shortage of information. He only used his hand first, because he wasn't entirely sure it would even fit in his mouth: he stroked slow and curious until Bunny began to grunt in his sleep, hips starting to move with greater insistence, and then he did it faster, hard and almost rough, the way he would usually take care of himself. All the while, Jack leaned closer, watching with fascination at the expressions that flickered across Bunny's sleeping face.

It should have been ridiculous -- or at least a little embarrassing -- but Jack was only fascinated. There was some part of his mind that rebelled at his actions -- never mind the fact that Bunny was male, Bunny was ... well, a _bunny_. A giant rabbit! Even if he had remarkably humanlike expressions, even if he walked on two legs and spoke with words instead of grunts and squeaks and a twitching nose, he was still alien in so many ways. There was nothing about him that should have been appealing at all--

Bunny came with a ragged sigh and without waking, his cock jerking in Jack's hand, leaving his fingers spattered with hot stickiness.

Jack fell back with a thump, breathing hard himself. There was a roaring of blood in his ears, loud enough to drown out nearly everything else; his entire world narrowed down to the wetness in his hand and the tightness in his pants. He stared at his hand like it was something strange to him -- not quite a _traitor_ , but certainly not at all like he'd expected. There was no way to deny what he'd done to himself; the evidence was there, dripping across his fingers.

Now what? he thought to himself, distant, his own thoughts echoing and dim even to himself. He'd done it for sure. He'd done it and the part of him that wasn't distantly horrified was uncomfortably aroused, and Bunny, stupid Bunny, just groaned in his sleep again and rolled over so that his back was to Jack and that was it, that was everything. Part of him was almost insulted that he hadn't even registered enough of an impact to wake the stupid rabbit, but the rest of him was almost pathetically relieved. How did you even explain something like that?

So Jack did the reasonable and rational thing to do, and he ran. He meant to stay away for the rest of the season, to give himself time to recover (and maybe regain the ability to look Bunny in the face without remembering what it looked like with Jack's hand on him, stroking him hard and fast), but in the end he returned only a week later, his heart in his throat and his skin buzzing with nervous anticipation as he tiptoed his way back to Bunny's room.

He was about _fun_ , not about _smart decisions_.

Or, at least, that was what he told himself as he crawled onto Bunny's nest, straddling one outstretched leg and reaching down with curious light fingertips. Fun wasn't about taking careful advice, no matter who gave it -- fun was about being impulsive and trusting your instincts; fun was about taking a risk and living through the freefall, and even if it hurt later, that didn't change the glory that could be found in single snatched moments.

Something about those thoughts rang hollow to him, but he pushed that bitter tang of guilt steadfastly away. He could deal with the consequences later. Right now, he had a new game to experiment with, and maybe -- just maybe -- he would have his fill before Bunny woke up at the end of the country's winter.

There were more things that Jack learned, during that long breathless season. He learned how to draw out Bunny's sleepy pleasure, which parts would get him a surprised moan or a raised hip; he learned the proper angle that he needed to settle _himself_ , on his hands and knees above Bunny's prone body, for sex to work. He learned that even he could be warm -- hot -- without pain for something like this, that Bunny's cock was big but not impossibly big -- and that it was a struggle to breathe properly with it inside of him, but not nearly as difficult as it was when he looked into Bunny's sleeping face and wished with all his heart that those eyes would open and look at him with affection rather than disgust.

He learned that sometimes, after sex, if he stretched out and pressed himself close, Bunny's arms would come around him and tuck him in close, and at least for a short while he could rest in the illusion of being a lover rather than an interloper.

After the end of Bunny's hibernation that year, Jack spent most of his time avoiding the Warren and its master; even when the Guardians gathered for socializing, he found ways to avoid being too close to Bunny, or being alone with him ever. He doubted it went unnoticed -- even he wasn't that arrogant -- but at least no one brought it up to him, and though sometimes he could tell Bunny was watching him, the topic was never brought up.

He couldn't tell if he was grateful for that, or if it made him feel worse.

During the fifth year, Jack stayed away for a whole month before he went back. He was actually a little proud of himself; maybe it meant he _could_ break the habit, and before Bunny could catch on. Once he did, there was almost no way that anything would be the same ever again, and as much as Jack didn't mind change, there were some things that felt close to sacred. The love and support of his fellows was high on that list -- would they strip him of his title, if they found out? Would it be like that one awful Easter years ago, when he'd come back to find eggs smashed everywhere and Bunny raging in pain and anger?

"Sure," he muttered to himself, through clenched teeth. "Just do the same as you always do, Jack, just keep digging that grave deeper."

He moved up to straddle Bunny's hips, bracing his hands on Bunny's chest, shifting to angle himself.

"Maybe a fruit basket would work for a consolation present."

Long, strong fingers closed around his wrists. "I prefer the ones with pineapple, m'self."

Jack's head snapped up. He found himself staring straight into Bunny's open (open, oh shit) eyes, and all he could do was freeze (ha ha) in place, his hips still raised, his mouth open in an o of silent panic.

Bunny propped himself up onto his elbows, still holding on to Jack's wrists. "Now," he drawled, and the look in his eyes was spring storms and bruised greenery, "what's all this about?"

Jack swallowed hard. Try as he could, though, he couldn't actually make himself form the words. Panic began to seep into his awareness in drips and degrees, and once it had settled its sharp claws in, he tried to jerk back automatically. Bunny's grip tightened on him, and Jack had a moment longer of staring into those narrow _aware_ eyes before the world suddenly flipped upside down, twisting his stomach with it. A heartbeat later he was sprawled on his back with his legs splayed wide and open around Bunny's hips, his arms stretched high over his head and pinned in place by a single strong hand.

Bunny leaned over him, and his breath was warm on Jack's cheek. "Now, Frostbite," he said, "let's try that again. What d'you think you were doing?"

"Um." Jack's voice came out as a high squeak. "Bunny, uh, I can explain--"

"Go ahead." Bunny shifted his weight, settling himself comfortably between Jack's legs, and Jack shuddered a little at the pressure -- even now, Bunny was hard, hot skin pressed against his skin in an implicit threat. "I'm all ears."

"H-haha, that, that's good," Jack stammered. He twisted his wrists a little, testing the grip on them, but Bunny's hold was absolute. "All ears, huh, I'll remember tha-- ah!" He gasped as Bunny gave a sharp pointed thrust against him, the tip of his cock pressing but not yet entering. "B-Bunny, c'mon--"

"In a moment." Bunny put his other hand (paw?!) on Jack's chest, his fingers splayed wide. Jack could feel the gentle prick of claws against his skin, and it made him swallow hard, suddenly dizzy with posibilities. "You've been making a right nuisance of yourself all year, yeah? It's enough to drive someone a bit mad."

"Y-you're always mad," Jack managed, then hissed as Bunny's claws raked down his front, across his chest and down over his stomach. "It's like your default state of being--"

Bunny hummed and thrust forward again. This time, he sank halfway into Jack and paused, tightening his grip on Jack's wrists as he keened. "That so?"

Jack swallowed hard, dragging his head against the nest. It was impossible to breathe like this, so close and tight and hot -- he'd been stupid to think he was having trouble before, when Bunny had been underneath him. Now that he was the one under Bunny, and all he could do was spread his legs wider, whining in his throat. There'd been a question, he _knew_ there was a question, but he could only stare pleadingly up, his whole body shaking now.

"Bunny," he choked, and "please," and "I'm sorry."

He closed his eyes after that, unable to bear seeing whatever look crossed Bunny's face -- but his voice was surprisingly gentle as he murmured something low that might have been an assent, then began to move, and there was no soft gentle buildup, there was no slow start, and Jack learned something else in that moment: that doing it by himself, alone and wishing for a partner, was nothing at all compared to the real thing, moving _together_ instead of on his own, moving _with_ someone rather than solo.

He came harder and faster than he ever remembered in the whole of his life, his voice rising up in a startled shout; it took only a few more thrusts before Bunny's face was pressed into the crook of his neck and shoulder, bititng down hard, and Jack knew without a doubt that he had finished as well. He didn't quite collapse in the aftermath, but he did sink gently down, at first pressing the whole of his sturdy weight into Jack's body, then sliding halfway off. The pressure on his wrists loosened, then vanished. If he wanted to escape, now was the best time -- maybe they could call it even now; maybe thngs would go back to normal in a few more centuries, maybe--

Bunny's arms wrapped around him and pulled him in close. Jack couldn't help the startled yelp that escaped him; it was like the last year, when Bunny had unconsciously cuddled him like a lover, but when he looked up, Bunny's eyes were open and dark.

"Uh," he managed, his own voice sounding weak to his own ears, and got a finger pressed to his lips instead.

"Shut it, Frost," Bunny said, his voice a low rumble. "And go to sleep already."

He closed his eyes. His breathing evened out, but his arms didn't loosen their hold around Jack. In spite of himself, he pressed a little closer, turning his head so he could press his ear to Bunny's chest, listening as the thunderous pounding of his heart slowed and settled into a familiar gentle rhythm.

Did this mean things were okay? Did it mean that he wouldn't lose everything? Did Bunny think this was all an elaborate dream? Did--

A heavy paw-hand settled on the back of his head, pressing it closer to Bunny's chest. " _Sleep_ , Frost," Bunny groaned.

And for once, Jack took a deep breath, curled his fingers in soft fur, and listened to someone else's suggestion.


	2. -epilogue-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then an epilogue with more porn happened, I guess. (~'-')~

Jack woke in slow hazy degrees, first to the impressions of _warmth_ and then to the realization that he felt _good_. There was something heavy and warm pressed all along his back, and no matter what some people thought, it wasn't that he disliked the heat, or couldn't stand it, or anything like that; it wasn't his preference, but sometimes -- every now and then -- it was nice.

Nice ... he shivered as awareness rose up faster now, buoyed along by the impression of touch skimming along his (bare?) leg, tracing an idle path from his knee to the bottom of his ribcage. He could feel an edge to that touch -- like the edge of nails

(claws)

that were too light to hurt, but not so much that he couldn't sense a little of the inherent threat they could be. Maybe not for him, not like this, but he could sense the blunted edge of _danger_ , and it made him shiver, his hips hitching before he could quite stop himself.

Danger could be fun, after all.

The warmth pressed against his back rumbled, and he was almost awake enough to recognize the cadence of it. Something at the back of his mind nagged at him to pay attention, pay _attention_ , Jack!, but he felt too good and too comfortable and too warm to really want to just yet. He stretched instead, pressing more into the body behind his, and then gasped as something warm and soft passed over his belly and up across his chest, brushing light as snowflakes over his nipples. When he squirmed automatically, just shy of ticklish, there was a pause and then that whispery gesture was repeated, again and again until his whole chest felt maddeningly sensitive.

He tried to roll -- into it or away, he wasn't sure which he wanted more -- and then an arm locked around his waist, keeping him firmly in place.

Jack's eyes snapped open; full awareness crashed over him in an icy wave and brought with it gibbering panic.

He was in Bunny's Warren -- more importantly, he was in Bunny's _bed_ , or the closest that passed as one, and he'd been ... he'd been ...

He bit his lip and went as still as possible. Rabbits did that when faced with dangerous predators, some small voice in his mind supplied, stupid distant facts from a life he hardly remembered. Sometimes it would surprise the predator into backing off, and then the rabbit could escape.

There was another low rumble up against his back, and he flinched helplessly when long whiskers tickled along his jaw. Bunny's nose was damp and just slightly cool, snuffling along the nape of Jack's neck. He didn't say anything, but his arm remained locked like an iron band around Jack's waist, so his choices for escape were either to lash out entirely, to summon his ice and freeze Bunny and escape, or ...

Or what?

A long warm tongue glided up the back of his neck, from the first boney knob of his spine to just under his ear, and Jack made an embarrassingly high noise, a hard shiver ripping through him at the touch. And Bunny, stupid Bunny, he just made a soft chuffing noise that sounded for all the world like a _laugh_ , then did it again, slower this time, and ending it with a nip to Jack's earlobe, and even if his teeth were blunt, they were strong. Jack squirmed a little, his hands drifting to Bunny's arm around his waist and tugging halfheartedly; as he expected, Bunny didn't let him go.

"Uhm," he said, in a voice that hardly sounded like his own, too low and rough from sleep and -- other things. "Bunny ..."

"Yeah?" That damp nose touched under Jack's ear again, and the warm gust of his breath from the word nearly made Jack lose his.

"What are you doing?"

There was a small snort. Bunny ran a hand across Jack's chest again, flicking the sharp point of a claw against a nipple and tugging him back firmly when he jerked in reaction. "You're askin' something like that now?"

"Well." He wet his lips nervously. "I didn't really think--"

"See, that's your problem." Bunny circled the same nipple with a clawpoint now, drawing it into an aching tightness, and his voice was almost unfairly normal, as if they were just debating the difference between sunflowers and daisies. "You never do."

"Hey," he protested, then gulped when the tip of that claw pressed lightly into his nipple, still not _quite_ a threat, but bordering so close to it that he could feel himself breaking into goosebumps. "I think about plenty of things ..."

"Could've fooled me." Bunny bit his shoulder lightly, at the junction where it flowed upward into his neck. "Since when were you the careful sort?"

"Th-thinking and careful aren't the same thing ..."

"Apples and apples," Bunny said, which made no sense to Jack at all, and then he reached up with his free hand to take Jack's chin gently and tilt it before biting him again, and maybe _that_ didn't make much sense either, but it felt too good for him to complain.

... Well, to complain _much._

"Hey, seriously," he mumbled, though he'd closed his eyes again, doing his best to keep his hips still, no matter what interesting things Bunny was doing to the top half of him. "What's this all about?"

"You tell me, mate." Bunny's words seemed to be spoken directly into his skin; he could feel the way Bunny's lips moved with each one. It brought a strange sort of aching awareness to it that made the pit of his stomach twist, and he wasn't sure he wanted to examine that too deeply. "Going in and doing things like that to a guy when he's trying to nap and all."

Jack flinched and it had nothing to do with Bunny's touch. "Look," he mumbled, and he pulled away as far from Bunny's body as he could, "I didn't really mean ... I didn't know -- I didn't think--"

"Like I said, Frost," Bunny said, and pulled Jack close again, this time with both arms -- one locked higher around his chest and the other lower, just above his hips -- "I knew that already. You never think about anything."

Jack bit his lip. It took a few moments of deep breathing before he could make himself speak again: "I'm really sorry."

"Sorry's not the sort of thing that cuts it."

He opened his eyes again. He could see the far wall of the little nesting room, and more importantly, he could see his staff, leaning safely out of the way. If there was a way he could just distract Bunny long enough to grab it, then he definitely could get away--

"Lucky for you," Bunny went on, his voice a lazy drawl, "I'm an understanding sort of guy."

Jack choked a little, and he tried to make it sound more like a laugh than anything else. "You? You were the worst after that whole thing with Pitch. What happened to 'we never should have trusted you'?"

And why had he forgotten that, Jack wondered dimly. It was still true in a way, wasn't it? Maybe he wasn't wrecking havoc with seasons or holidays or anything, but give him one simple task -- something offered as a gesture of friendship and _trust_ , and this was where he ended up. That was hardly the sort of thing a trustworthy person did, right? In the end, Jack Frost was--

"In the end, Frostbite, you're a right moron and it's a good thing I've gotten to know you."

Jack frowned, but didn't relax. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're an idiot," Bunny said, like one might explain to someone very slow or hard of hearing. "I've half a mind to throttle you, but that's the sort of thing that should probably wait. And besides--" He loosened the arm around Jack's belly and traced his claws up along Jack's leg again, tiny tickling pinpricks of pressure, "it might give you the wrong idea."

"Then what's the right idea, Bunny?" He didn't want to move and he didn't want to look, and more than anything else, he didn't want to hope. He'd never really thought too deeply about how a Guardian's powers worked, though he knew that if he let himself wander aimlessly, he would always be drawn to some kind of gathering, some party, somewhere where people were enjoying themselves and having fun. He'd watched Sandy make enough dreams with perfection; he'd seen North instinctively find the last missing detail to make a toy wondrous; he'd heard Tooth rattle off things with unerring accuracy, down to the smallest detail.

Hoping around Bunny was just asking for it.

"Are you done?" Bunny sounded more amused than aggrieved, and his nose touched under Jack's ear again, so lightly that he thought he imagined it at first. "Honestly, you're thinking about this too hard. For once."

"I'm glad this is funny for you," Jack said, and his voice sounded more like a growl than his own normal voice. "But I really don't get it, so if you don't mind--"

Bunny took his chin in hand again and turned his head. His touch was gentle, but there was no resisting it for long; as much as he didn't want to, Jack looked up into Bunny's face.

Bunny wasn't quite smiling; the lines of his expression were too gentle to be anything but affection. There was a bit of a quirk to the corners of his eyes, which usually came when he was annoyed, but overall ...

"Um," Jack said.

"You're a right bloody idiot, Jack," Bunny said. "But when you put your mind to it, you're not too bad. Figure it out."

"Um," he said again. "Bunny--"

Bunny rolled his eyes and said something in a language that Jack had never heard before, something strange and lilting that felt like it tugged at his very bones, then leaned down so that their noses touched.

"You're an idiot," he said. "But I think I'll keep you anyway."

"Keep me--?"

Bunny kissed him.

It was a little bit awkward -- a rabbit's mouth wasn't really shaped for that sort of thing, and he didn't have _lips_ the same way a human did -- but there was no mistaking what it was, the pressure of mouth against mouth, held just long enough that there no way to pretend it was on accident. Jack sucked in a quick sharp breath through his nose and closed his eyes again, and he tried very hard to pretend he wasn't shivering again, something tingling in all his limbs and aching in his throat, something that he couldn't quite name. It was there, at the very tip of his tongue, tasting like sunlight on snow, but instead of reaching for it, he twisted as best he could in Bunny's arms, grasping handfuls of fur wherever he could, and leaned into the kiss as hard as possible. He could feel the vibrations of Bunny's purr and it made his fingers tingle, brought a small helpless smile to his face that probably looked ridiculously soppy, but for once, he couldn't find it in himself to even care.

"Of course," Bunny murmured, when he'd pulled away just a fraction, just enough to breathe, "if you pull a stunt like that again, I'll beat your ass black'n blue. Got it?"

"Yeah," he said, more breathless than he wanted. "Loud and clear."

"Good. So, where were we?"

"Were we in the middle of something?"

Bunny smirked. "You forget already? I'm almost hurt."

"Almost--"

"But we're not done." And then Bunny was manhandling him, rolling him back onto his side again, facing away, and part of Jack was amazed at how physically _strong_ Bunny was. He'd known, but knowing secondhand and knowing firsthand were entirely different things. "I'll ask you again after."

"Uh," Jack said, and if that wasn't rapidly becoming his word of choice, he wasn't sure what was. "Bunny--"

"Shhhhh." Bunny's face pressed against his neck again, actively snuffling against his hairline. It should have been ridiculous -- and to be honest, it still was, a little -- but he still couldn't help the shudder that went through him. It didn't quite tickle, but it still sent off tremors in him, and who knew the back of his neck could be that sensitive? And in the meantime Bunny was pawing at his chest again, alternating between the softer, worn-leather smoothness of the pawpads and the sharp smooth edge of claws. All Jack could do was squirm, still trapped by the one arm wrapped around him, and when he rocked his hips back, he could feel a distinct and familiar pressure against them.

Bunny was murmuring to him in that unfamiliar language again, his voice lower now, softer, and Jack couldn't understand a single word he was saying, but it felt good just to listen to it, and he answered in the only way he could -- with sighs, with gasps, and with shaking moans, as Bunny plucked at his nipples, occasionally turning his fingers so that soft, soft fur brushed over his skin instead. Every now and then he paused in his talking to nip -- hard -- at Jack's neck and shoulders, peppering the whole area with stinging little bites. Some part of Jack was grateful that he had the hoodie; it would hide most of the marks.

And then, as if reading his mind, Bunny nosed up directly under his ear and bit there, scraping his teeth against that spot until it almost hurt, still throbbing gently when he pulled away and ran his tongue over it instead. Jack hissed something that wasn't quite a protest, tugging again at Bunny's arm ineffectually. He tried to say something in protest, like _Hey, what do I do if someone asks me where that's from?_ or maybe _I'm not a chewtoy,_ but then Bunny's hand dipped between his legs and he lost track of all of his protests entirely.

Unlike when Jack had touched him, during all those sleepy sessions, Bunny's method was apparently slow and steady, using all three different textures on his hand to their fullest advantage. At first Jack tried to rock his hips faster, to encourage Bunny into his rhythm instead, but instead Bunny's other arm loosened from around his chest and a hand pressed low against his belly, forcing him into stillness. He growled at that and just got a deep chuckle for his protest, and another soft bump of a nose against his chin -- a rabbit's kiss, or something close to that.

Even then, Bunny didn't go any faster. At first he started with a proper fist, pawpads and fur both dragging over Jack's cock in slow steady passes, but then he let go (and no matter what he said later, Jack had _not_ whimper, there was no way that high-pitched noise came from _him_ ) and instead walked his claws along its length instead, sharp glancing little touches that made Jack shiver and squirm as best he could, sometimes holding his breath and sometimes panting so hard that his chest ached with it.

Jack tried to say Bunny's name, tried to say _anything_ coherent, and then Bunny was jerking him off again and he gave up on that with a whine. He pressed his head back hard against Bunny's shoulder, gasping hard for breath that he couldn't quite catch, and he curled one arm back to be able to take a deep handful of Bunny's fur. It helped to ground him just a little, though the blood was roaring in his ears and he thought he was going to explode if _something_ didn't happen soon.

"Patience, Jackie," Bunny crooned in his ear, and it took a moment for the words to register as English, rather than whatever else Bunny had been using before. "Anticipation's the best part."

"I hate you," he managed, too breathless to put any actual heat into the words.

"Yeah? Same to you." There was definitely laughter in the stupid rabbit's voice, and then he did the worst possible thing: he _stopped_ , letting go of Jack's cock completely. Jack growled protest, grabbing for Bunny's wrist, but his fingers slid uselessly through the thin fur. He was thinking very hard about just freezing them both -- that'd teach Bunny to mess with him! -- when those hands settled on his thigh instead, urging his leg up and spread, and _oh_.

Oh.

He wriggled his hips as eagerly as he could, and this time when Bunny laughed he couldn't actually make himself feel upset about it, because he was _ready_ , he was so ready, he was going to _die_ if something didn't happen soon--

"Bloody exaggerator," Bunny rasped into his ear, and Jack turned his head enough to press his face against the side of Bunny's and bite. It mostly got him a mouthful of fur, but he did feel his teeth brush skin and it was worth it for the startled grunt that seemed to be pulled from deep within Bunny's chest.

Everything else passed in a sort of blur. He was pretty sure Bunny did _something_ to prepare him, but it was lost in the blur of soft fur and the sharpness of claws, and then there was the burn of a cock pressing into him, still slow, still deliberate, and that just wasn't _fair_ , he was going to burn up, he was going to melt away and that would be it, that would be the end of Jack Frost, and how the hell would Bunny even be able to explain _that_?

"Shhh," Bunny crooned, and Jack wanted to tell him to take his hushing and _shove_ it, except in a way, Bunny sort of _was._ A bunny was supposed to be fast at this, right? Fast and hard, a whole fucking (hah!) marathon that would just -- just --

Bunny took his cock in hand again, still slow and still careful, and Jack covered Bunny's hand with both of his, tugging and pulling until finally, _finally_ , Bunny began to stroke him faster, and then it only took a few moments for his hips to also pick up the pace, and there were claws raking across his chest, now hard enough to sting, and there were long blunt teeth nipping across his shoulders and he arched into all of that as best he could, and he let himself go into the freefall, and he didn't know if he'd managed to say it aloud, but there was Bunny's name on his lips, hovering breathlessly, like a prayer.

The second time Jack woke in warm heavy contentment, there was a nose snuffling in his hair, and he could _feel_ Bunny's smile, wide and smug. He made a vague questioning noise, pawing a little at the fur that was closest to his hands, too bonelessly content to actually form the words.

"That, Jackie," Bunny said, in a low pleased rumble, "is how to _properly_ do it."

Jack rolled his eyes behind their closed lids, and let himself slip back to sleep.


End file.
